


Wanting You is Devastation

by willowoftheriver



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: (for now) - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Denial, Denial of Feelings, Discussion of Abortion, F/F, F/M, Failed Relationship, Feelings Realization, Female Vegeta (Dragon Ball), Genderbending, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Pregnancy, Requited Unrequited Love, Sexuality Crisis, Time Travel, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:27:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24550807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/willowoftheriver/pseuds/willowoftheriver
Summary: Bulma Briefs comes to the difficult realization she's into Vegeta, Princess of All Saiyans.Unfortunately, even then, it's not that simple.
Relationships: Bulma Briefs/Vegeta, Bulma Briefs/Yamcha, Son Goku/Vegeta (Dragon Ball)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 44





	1. drinking you down like i wanna drown

The root cause of Bulma’s current problem is, really, this:

On Namek, at the eleventh hour, after so many losses and so much death, as the planet itself was literally _collapsing underneath_ _her_ , a thought had popped into her head completely without her input or permission.

_Was Yamcha really worth this?_

And the answer came just as spontaneously.

_No._

.

Then there’s Vegeta.

Bulma, by any and all logic, should _hate_ Vegeta. Namek never would’ve happened if not for her. Yamcha wouldn’t have died if not for her, even if she technically killed him by proxy. Bulma wouldn’t be having nightmares, likely for the rest of her life, if not for her.

And maybe, just possibly, Bulma might still be able to enjoy dates with Yamcha like she used to if not for her.

Of course, Bulma’s been in enough weird and extreme situations to know that the frantic thoughts that come in the midst of a panic don’t always make sense. A lot of times they don’t mean anything at all.

Maybe it was one of those very thoughts that had made its way to her mouth and got her calling out to Vegeta after they had all finally made it to Earth. “ _Hey, homegirl! You’re gonna need a place to stay.”_

Bulma still can’t exactly explain why those words left her mouth. Especially the “homegirl” part, because who the hell says that, but the rest isn’t much better. Because she should definitely, immutably _hate_ Vegeta.

Instead, she fixes her stupid gravity room when she inevitably breaks it (over and over and over and over), and shells out the money for more groceries when she eats Bulma’s family out of house and home (again and again and again and again) and puts up with her stupid mood swings that cycle nonsensically throughout the day for no apparent reason, and politely ignores how horrifically _loud_ her nightmares get every single night.

Bulma also—because she’s such a wonderful person—never actually goes through with her threats to hit Vegeta upside the head with a wrench, however snide and downright _nasty_ her comments about Yamcha get.

And those comments definitely don’t replay in Bulma’s head later on, when she and Yamcha are out together. Of course they don’t.

‘Cause Yamcha’s a great guy. Handsome. A hero. Her first love, the answer to what she’d been looking for all those years ago when she’d set out for the Dragon Balls.

(He’s not a prince, no. But . . . well. She’s accepted that.)

Except Bulma’s not entirely sure when she’s started thinking of him as her ‘first’ love. It’s a fact that he is, sequentially, but doesn’t the very designation first also imply . . . not the last?

It’s just that Yamcha had been so interested in marriage and family but it had been years and nothing had ever come of it. And Bulma realizes that she’d never been upset about that, had never even suggested moving their relationship further, and only now it disturbs her that she hadn’t.

Yeah, Bulma knows well enough that Yamcha’s eyes wander.

But so do hers.

And for a very long time, she hadn’t been ready to face what that really meant for them.

.

Vegeta’s unconscious for a few days, nursing some burns and a concussion. Bulma knows she’ll recover—knows from even only a few x-rays that she’s been through _much_ worse—but she’s surprised to realize that nothing can quite mitigate the fear.

Not that her (perfectly selfless) concern gives her mother an excuse for the honest-to-god _smirk_ she shoots her. A _knowing_ smirk! It’s bizarre enough for her mother to have any expression aside from a cheerful smile, and since when does the woman _know_ anything? Especially when it’s something beyond Bulma’s understanding? She loves her mother, but she was lucky enough to inherit her father’s brains and there’s not a thing in this world Bunny Briefs knows that Bulma doesn’t.

Yet her mother doesn’t lose that smirk for a very long time, however much Bulma tries to puzzle it out.

.

Vegeta and Bulma both come in at about the same time one night. Actually, it’s more like the early hours of the morning, and Bulma’s surprised, because Vegeta is usually too obsessively occupied with training in the gravity room to go anywhere.

“Training with Goku?” Bulma guesses, as it’s really the only viable option, though it’s never gone so late before.

Vegeta gives a noncommittal grunt, pulling some twigs out of her hair. She’s honestly a mess, covered in bruises and dirt, torn clothes barely hanging to her tiny frame.

“Things get out of hand?” Bulma continues, mainly because it seems like Vegeta _really_ isn’t in the mood. But Bulma’s just spent half a night in an uncomfortable dress and shoes sitting passionlessly beside Yamcha in a movie theater, their hands not even touching, and then out to a dinner where she wasn’t hungry and her face felt so brittle she was half afraid it might shatter as she chewed.

So Bulma—Bulma’s in the mood. For something. Anything.

“I see the beta male’s disappointed again,” Vegeta shoots back, even if her voice does lack some of the usual vitriol. She seems _tired_ , if Bulma had to say, in a way she’s never actually seen her before.

“Don’t call him that.”

“And you caked your face with so much of that—what do you people call it? Makeup? So sorry he didn’t notice your effort.”

“And how would you know?”

(Not that Vegeta’s wrong. Bulma hasn’t had sex with Yamcha at all since he’s been back. She’s not quite sure why.)

“You humans have such a pathetic sense of smell,” the woman scoffs, and makes to walk away.

Bulma clenches her fists and growls uselessly, mad at her and—and maybe _everything_. “Why do you have to be such a bitch?!”

“Thank you,” she drawls, her stride never faltering.

“It’s not a compliment!”

“On Vegeta-sei it is.”

“ _Was_!”

That burst out of her with no thought. It seems to be becoming a bad habit, really. And a part of Bulma is acutely aware of how . . . incredibly vicious that one little word was. It’s crossing a line. But another part of her doesn’t care right now, because in this moment she _does_ hate Vegeta—except it’s not because she killed Yamcha, or caused everything that happened on Namek, or nearly blew up Earth.

It’s because she’s very beautiful, in spite of that atrocious hairline. And Bulma has never once thought that about another woman before.

So she continues, “If that’s the case, I’m sure you would’ve been just irresistible!”

Finally Vegeta pauses, even looks back at her over her shoulder. The expression on her face takes Bulma aback, because she’s never seen anything like it on her before. Vegeta’s always angry or haughty, or some offshoot of both at the same time, but now she just—well, Bulma’s not even sure how to describe it. Unnaturally subdued, but . . .

“I’m sure,” she agrees. Then she zips off, faster than Bulma’s eyes can really follow.

She doesn’t know where she went until a little later on, after she’s had a few shots of hard liquor and eaten some ice cream, because pity parties really do require both.

Vegeta’s room is across from hers (an arrangement she’s yet to explain to herself) and she hears the shower running.

In fact, as she curls up on her bed and tosses and turns in a sweat, she listens to it running nearly all night.

.

The morning after Bulma finally breaks up with Yamcha, she cooks breakfast for Vegeta.

The woman crinkles her nose, pushing away the coffee with look of disgust, but accepts the heaps of pancakes and waffles and sausages and bacon and all the other things Bulma had been able to think up since about one AM.

“Uh,” Bulma says, holding her spatula in a tight grip to her chest. “Sorry about that . . . comment . . . a couple weeks ago.”

Vegeta rolls her eyes as she scarfs down everything in front of her. “Apology doesn’t look good on you, woman,” she manages, mouth open as she chews.

Bulma bares her teeth, raises the spatula. “ _You—”_

.

Vegeta insists she has to be on top during sex. Bulma’s not entirely sure why it matters. But, she lets her hold her hips down to the mattress, staying quiet during the long pause as the Saiyan stares at what’s between her legs.

“I’ve never been with another female before,” she finally says.

“Neither have I,” says Bulma. Then the thought crosses her mind: “How many guys have you been with?”

“I don’t see how that matters.”

“Oh? So you were a real slut, huh?”

Bulma’s teasing, _obviously_ , but Vegeta frowns deeply. “It insults me to think you presume I’ve been defeated by so many.”

“ _Defeated_?” Bulma echoes, uncomprehending.

But then Vegeta ducks her head down between her thighs, and she temporarily loses higher thought.

.

The next morning, Vegeta rolls out of bed and pukes.

And eventually, Bulma has the slow realization that she’s pregnant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is primarily about the Vegebul relationship, but there will be a definite element of Goku/Vegeta given that Trunks needs to exist.
> 
> Also, I'm not trying to imply that Goku raped Vegeta or anything; instead I'm trying to imply Vegeta has a pretty warped view of sex in general after being with the PTO for so long. My personal headcanon is that Frieza was waaaay too creepy with Vegeta from a young age, and that rape was a pretty common sight when planets were being purged.
> 
> I know Bulma's mother's official name is Panchy, but all the fics I ever read had it as Bunny, so I kind of just internalized that.
> 
> The title comes from the song "I Want You" by Cosmicity. Chapter title is from Billie Eilish's "bury a friend".


	2. warn your warmth to turn away (here it's december everyday)

“You know,” Bulma says, after about two months, “if you want to get rid of it, there are easier ways.”

Vegeta grunts through her mouthful of water, then takes a second to pour a little over her flushed, sweaty face before she replies. “If you want to end our . . . association, woman, I don’t care.”

That stings. More than Bulma would’ve ever guessed.

“But either way, my business isn’t yours. Go call the beta male if you want someone to dominate.”

Bulma very nearly slaps her—would’ve, actually, if she wasn’t aware it would only hurt her hand. “ _Excuse me_ for—” No, not caring. She won’t _ever_ say caring. “I would think even you would be smart enough to realize that if you exercise yourself into miscarrying, you’ll probably die too. So much for facing the androids then! Or Goku! Or anyone! And trust me, I won’t use the Earth Dragon Balls to bring you back!”

(Except Bulma’s not actually sure if that’s true. And that’s horrifying.)

“But you’re starting to show, even though you still puke _all day_. You’re getting pale. You’re _losing_ weight, sure as hell not building muscle. It’s a simple procedure, a short recovery—”

“Do you think I want this?” she snarls, suddenly up in Bulma’s face. (And Bulma still can't help but hate that she finds her eyes so pretty, beetle black as they are.) “Do you think I want this _parasite_ in me, draining my energy, my resources, _holding me back_?! I want nothing more than to make it gone, but I can’t!”

“Why not? Your _morals_ too lofty for an abortion?” (Later, as she lies beside Vegeta in bed listening to the sound of her breathing, Bulma will idly wonder how many pregnant women she’s killed. How many children, off in places Bulma’s never even heard of and now never will.)

“The child is—is important.”

“Oh. Well, fine. Then if it’s important to you, why don’t you try taking care of yourself for it?”

“It’s important to the _species_ ,” Vegeta grinds out.

Bulma certainly understands that logic, but there’s also the fact she’s dealing with someone who is not and likely never will be prone to much rational thought. Vegeta practically never refers to Gohan as anything other than _halfbreed_ , said in such a tone it’s obviously an insult, but, well, the difference must be that he’s not half of _Vegeta_.

Then again, it strikes her to wonder what human male Vegeta had had sex with. Not that Bulma hadn’t thought about it before, when her immediate reaction to the realization of the woman’s pregnancy was hurt and betrayal and an accusation of cheating on the tip of her tongue. Thankfully she realized how stupid that was before she verbalized it, as Vegeta had obviously conceived before she and Bulma had first gone to bed together.

(Not that that means the hurt didn’t linger. There’d been so much unsaid between them long before they’d acted on it. Or at least Bulma had thought so.)

“Fine, fine! Then for the sake of your _species_ , limit your training, up your fluids, take some prenatal vitamins, sit your ass down every once in a while, and go to my lab and let me give you an ultrasound at least once a month!”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that on this planet, bitches who run around all day with wrenches are also baby doctors! _Why_ do you have an ultrasound device?!”

It’s a very new acquisition. Not that Vegeta needs to know that.

“You can’t go to a normal doctor. Most humans still don’t know about aliens!”

“Humans,” Vegeta spits in pure contempt, crossing her arms over her chest. At least she doesn’t make a move to return to the gravity room.

“ _And_ —” Bulma continues, not willing to get into _that_ debate all over again, “—you should tell the father. He deserves—”

“The fact that he’s sired a child in the line of Vegeta is already more than he deserves. I owe him _nothing_.”

And Bulma’s not exactly sure what it is about her tone as she says that, but it all comes to her at once, appearing fully formed in her brain. _The species_.

Vegeta’s not carrying a halfbreed at all.

.

“Bulma,” her mother coos, placing yet another bowl of soba down in front of Vegeta.

(Bulma tries to calculate the total sodium intake in her mind from the stack of dirty dishes left in her wake.)

“I can’t believe it. I’m so proud of you. You’re going to be a _father_!”

Vegeta chokes on the noodles. Bulma understands just what she feels, but all she can do is give her a conciliatory slap between the shoulder blades.

.

“How long are Saiyan females pregnant?” Bulma asks, trying in vain to warm up the ultrasound gel.

“I don’t know.”

“You _don’t know_? How is that possible? Didn’t anyone ever give you The Talk?”

Vegeta looks extremely uncomfortable lying there on the examination table, stomach exposed by the hiked-up hem of her tank top. It’s really started to bulge, and dare Bulma say it, she might’ve even gained a little healthy weight. “The ‘Talk’?”

“You know. Didn’t, like, that huge bald guy you came to Earth with ever sit you down when you were a teenager and tell you about sex and stuff?”

Vegeta rolls her eyes. “He never needed to. Are you telling me that this is some bizarre Earthan custom?”

“Never mind,” Bulma sighs. “I’ll just assume nine months and go from there. Now hold still.”

She applies the wand and spends a little while shifting it around, squinting at the machine’s grainy screen (and occasionally over at an anatomy textbook out of Vegeta’s line of sight).

The general structures look basically the same as a human woman’s, though there is some distortion that makes Bulma frown and flip through the book. The text by a similar looking picture prompts a question:

“Have you ever had an abortion before?”

“I’ve never been _pregnant_ before, woman.”

Odd, but who knows? Probably the scar tissue, if that even is what it is, just came from being hit in the abdomen too many times. Thankfully it doesn’t seem to be impacting the fetus, which Bulma finally finds. It really only looks like a fuzzy blob, though she smiles as she thinks she makes out the beginnings of a tail.

It’s a couple of weeks too early to determine the sex. Except, the thing is, Bulma’s given it a little thought, and now she's pretty sure she already knows what it is.

“Do you think he’ll look like you?”

“I haven’t thought about it,” says Vegeta, staring stonily at the ceiling.

Bulma doubts that. She’s seen enough by now to know Vegeta’s hardly stupid. “Do all Saiyans have black hair and eyes?”

“What, you haven’t noticed my gorgeous red highlights? When you made me stare at that smelly mess on the top of your head for months?”

Bulma almost defends her perm, but bops Vegeta on the nose instead. “Why, ‘Geta—”

“‘ _Geta_ ’?!”

“Are we learning some slight bit of humor, however lame? But seriously, though.”

“What do you want me to say?” she hisses, sitting up in one motion and pulling her top back down over gel and all. “Purple. My mother’s hair was purple, much like your idiot father’s. It’s really the only thing I remember of her. And I am simply _thrilled_ to know that this same sequence of events I’m living has played out again and again across numerous timelines!”

“Your son is going to be a great warrior—”

“And what about me? Is that supposed to be my purpose? Being his incubator? All the while achieving nothing for myself, over and over in every timeline and reality there is? Is this _all_ I’m to amount to, with no capacity to change it? I came here to gain immortality, to _conquer_ , but all I’ve found is _this_.”

 _You found me_ , Bulma thinks as she watches her leave in disgust. But she doesn’t say it.

She’s not naïve enough to want to hear what Vegeta would say back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at me here making up excuses to not have to change Trunks's hair color.
> 
> Chapter title comes from "Love Like Winter" by AFI.
> 
> Thanks so much for the kudos and comments!


End file.
